Forward Pass (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)
by ilna
Summary: A photo in an early Christmas card prompts a memory for Steve and Catherine.


**Notes:** Mari and Sammy – Thank you for the resounding votes of confidence when I changed story ideas last minute. You two are the best!

Thanks to Mari for the title! (Look at you with the sports term!)

Esther – Thank you for always listening :-). It's appreciated more than you know.

Readers and REAL McRollers – Thank you again for the absolutely AMAZING response to the Thanksgiving Marathon stories and ALL the REAL World stories! We truly have the best readers.

 **Hope you enjoy!**

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 _Forward Pass (A McRoll in the REAL World Story)_

"Hey, d'you get the mail?" Steve asked as he shut and locked the front door.

Cammie trotted over to greet him, and he rubbed her ears affectionately.

"Esther must have brought it in," Catherine said, standing by the desk in the dining room. "And look . . ." She held up a green envelope. "Right on schedule."

"Christmas card from the Mills," he said, smiling.

"Always the first one," she said, returning his smile.

She opened the envelope to take out the card as he joined her. When she opened the card to take out the usual annual update page, a photo fell to the ground.

Steve bent to pick it up, taking a post-it note from the back.

His brow knit as he read, " 'Met up with an old buddy of yours.' "

They looked at the photo and saw the familiar faces of Hal and Deanna Mills standing with a tall young man who looked to be in his mid-twenties.

Steve looked again at the post-it, flipping it over. He smiled slowly as he recognized the name written on the back.

"Little Bobby Watkins. He lived across from the Mills. Used to watch me doing yard work. Jeez, he'd be about . . . what . . . twenty-four, twenty-five now."

Catherine smiled. "I remember him. The little charmer."

 _ **June 1998**_

 _Steve pushed a wheelbarrow of mulch around the side of the house. He glanced over at the deck when he heard the back door open. A dark-haired boy of about seven came outside, a small Nerf football in his hands._

" _Hi," the boy said._

 _Steve stopped walking and blinked at him. "Hi."_

" _I'm Bobby. I live across the street."_

 _Steve shifted, setting the wheelbarrow down. His hands moved to his hips. "Yeah, I know. Mrs. Mills said she was watching you today."_

 _He looked toward the house where Deanna Mills was watching from the kitchen window. She smiled at him, her eyebrows raised in question._

 _When Steve looked back at Bobby, his eyebrows shot up as the boy had moved closer._

" _Will you play with me?" Bobby asked, twisting the ball in his hands._

 _Steve glanced again at the window and then at the wheelbarrow in front of him. "Um . . . I gotta . . . finish this." He grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow again and straightened. "Sorry."_

 _Bobby's shoulders slumped, and Steve cleared his throat a little awkwardly._

" _Um . . . maybe after?" he said, shifting his grip on the wheelbarrow handles. "If you're still here."_

 _He gave Bobby a small half smile before pushing the wheelbarrow toward the back of the property where he had helped the Mills install new landscaping._

" _What are you doing?" Bobby asked._

 _Steve glanced at him, surprised to see the boy following. "Um . . . I'm putting down this mulch for Mrs. Mills."_

" _Why?"_

 _Reaching the landscape, Steve set down the wheelbarrow and picked up the pitchfork he'd gotten out earlier along with several other garden tools. "Uh, it's . . . I guess it's good for the garden. Keeps the weeds out."_

" _Can I help you?"_

" _Um . . . I don't think . . ." Steve's brow furrowed, looking down at the pitchfork, then back at Bobby's hopeful expression. His expression softened, and he glanced around the yard for an option. "Uh, okay, I guess . . . um . . . here."_

 _He reached down and picked up a small hand fork. Bobby dropped his football and took the tool._

" _What do I do?" he asked._

" _Watch me," Steve said and took the pitchfork up in both hands._

 _Scooping a decent amount of the mulch with the pitchfork, he dropped it in a pile between two of the bushes. He made another pile a few feet away._

" _Like that," he said and looked at Bobby._

 _The boy nodded and scooped up a small pile with his hand fork. He dropped it near Steve's first pile._

" _Okay," Steve said. "Then we spread it around . . . like this." He used his pitchfork to spread the mulch in an even layer over the soil._

 _Bobby squatted down and imitated Steve's movements with the hand fork._

 _"Good," Steve said, nodding approvingly._

 _Bobby beamed up at him._

 _They continued spreading the mulch around the new garden for the next fifteen minutes with Bobby occasionally asking Steve questions._

 _"What's this stuff called again?" Bobby asked curiously, picking up a piece and examining it._

 _"Mulch," Steve said._

 _"Mulch," Bobby repeated, trying the word out. "What is it?"_

 _Steve shrugged. "Tree bark, mostly."_

 _Straightening, Steve stuck the pitchfork in the ground momentarily and wiped his forearm across his sweaty brow. The day was hot, and he grimaced at the cloth of his t-shirt sticking to his sweat-soaked skin. He took it off, wiping his face with the material._

 _Without a word, Bobby knelt down and put his hand fork in the ground. He took his own t-shirt off, using it to wipe his face as Steve had done._

 _Steve looked down at him. "You should probably have . . . sunscreen or something on." He nodded toward the house. "Go check and see if Mrs. Mills has any."_

" _Then can I use the big fork?" Bobby asked, looking at the pitchfork Steve was holding once again._

" _The pitchfork?" Steve asked, raising his eyebrows. "Uh . . . yeah, okay . . . you can give it a try."_

 _Bobby jumped excitedly. "Okay! I'll be right back!"_

 _He took off for the house at a run and was met at the backdoor by Deanna who had sunscreen in hand._

 _She smiled at Steve and called out, "How's it going out here?"_

" _Good," he called back. "Shouldn't take too much longer."_

 _Bobby held his arms straight out so she could apply the lotion._

 _"I just spoke with Catherine," Deanna said while rubbing sunscreen on Bobby's shoulders. "She figured you were outside working already so she called the house phone. She's on her way over with those magazines her aunt is letting me borrow."_

 _Steve nodded._

 _Deanna finished by putting sunscreen on Bobby's face. She turned him around and gave him a playful nudge back in Steve's direction._

 _"All right, back to it," she said, grinning as he started running. "It looks great."_

 _"I get to use the big fork now!" Bobby called over his shoulder as he ran across the yard._

 _"The pitchfork," Steve said._

 _"It's bigger than me," Bobby observed with wide eyes, coming to a stop in front of Steve._

 _"You're right about that," Steve said with a little laugh. "So I'm gonna hold it with you, okay?"_

 _"Okay."_

 _Bobby grasped the tool near the tines while Steve stood behind him and held the handle. Together, they scooped a pile of mulch from the wheelbarrow and dropped it in the garden, then turned the pitchfork over and spread the mulch out._

 _Bobby looked over his shoulder at Steve and grinned. "We're doing it!"_

 _Steve's lip quirked up in a smile, and he nodded._

 _"Ready to go again?" he asked._

 _"Yeah!"_

 _Fifteen minutes later, Steve was spreading the last of the mulch in the garden while Bobby knelt by one of the small trees with his hand fork, making sure the mulch they'd already laid wasn't too close to the trunk._

 _The backdoor opened, and Steve looked up to see Catherine stepping out onto the deck._

 _He smiled immediately, straightening._

 _She started to smile back, then Deanna's voice called, "Catherine, wait . . ."_

 _Steve watched as Catherine turned, looking at a paper Deanna held._

 _Bobby came over by Steve. "Who's that?" he asked. "Your girlfriend?"_

" _That's Cathe–" Steve started, then looked down at him. "Uh, Midshipman Rollins. She's a friend of mine."_

" _Like a friend from school?"_

" _Yeah, she goes to the Academy like I do."_

" _My dad says you gotta be real smart to go to the Navy 'cademy."_

 _Steve smiled, his eyes going back to Catherine who was still talking with Deanna. "She is. For sure."_

" _She's pretty, too."_

 _Steve's eyes stayed on Catherine as he said quietly, "Yes, she is."_

 _Bobby stared at him quizzically. "You sure she's not your girlfriend?"_

 _Steve looked at him. "I–"_

" ' _Cause my grandma said my cousin Mark was bringing a friend to the family reunion, but it was really his girlfriend."_

 _Steve opened his mouth to respond, but closed it upon seeing Catherine step off the deck and head toward them._

 _"Hi," she said as she got closer, her eyes darting to his bare chest and back up to his face._

 _Steve smiled. "Hey."_

" _I hear you've got a helper today," she said, nodding to Bobby with a warm smile._

" _Yeah, this is_ –"

" _I'm Bobby."_

 _Catherine grinned at his initiative. "Well, hi, Bobby. I'm Catherine."_

 _"Steve says you go to the Navy 'cademy, too, 'cause you're smart."_

 _She chuckled. "That's right."_

" _And he says you're pretty."_

 _Catherine glanced at Steve, quirking an eyebrow in amusement. "Does he?" she asked, a hint of pink in her cheeks._

 _Steve huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked at Bobby. "Well, you said it first."_

 _Bobby nodded seriously._

 _Catherine laughed, her hands on her hips. "Well, aren't you the little charmer," she said to the now grinning boy._

 _"Will you play catch with me?" he asked hopefully. He looked up at Steve. "It's later, right?"_

 _Steve chuckled. "Yeah, it's later." He nodded, looking back at the garden. "Okay, sure. We're about done here. Let's put our tools away and we'll play catch."_

 _"Can I push the wheelbarrow?" Bobby asked._

 _"How about you help me push it?"_

 _"Okay!"_

 _Catherine took the pitchfork from Steve and watched as Bobby stepped between the handles of the wheelbarrow, putting a hand on each one._

 _Steve moved behind him and grabbed the handle grips, lifting the wheelbarrow up._

 _"Ready?" he asked._

 _Bobby nodded enthusiastically. "Uh huh!"_

 _"Okay," Steve said. "Push it toward the shed."_

 _He glanced back briefly at Catherine who was watching with a soft smile. He smiled back, then directed the wheelbarrow to the shed with Bobby's help._

 _Catherine joined them a minute later, having gathered the tools from the garden area._

 _"Thanks," Steve said, taking them from her._

 _Bobby ran over to get his football._

 _After Steve stored the tools and shut the shed door, he looked at Bobby. "Okay, let's see what you got."_

 _Almost before he got the last word out, Bobby heaved the ball high into the air._

 _"Whoa!" Steve said and ran a couple steps to catch it on the way down. "Okay, good arm. But can you catch?"_

 _Bobby held his hands out, ready to catch, and Steve threw him a spiral pass._

 _"Once a quarterback, always a quarterback, huh, sailor?" Catherine said, grinning at him._

 _He shrugged, grinning back. "What about you, Rollins? What d'ya got?"_

 _"Ohhh, plenty," she said, accepting the challenge. She held out her hands for Bobby to throw her the ball. "Let's show this guy, Bobby."_

 _"Yeah!" the boy cried and threw the ball high again._

 _His aim was a little off in his excitement, the ball coming down closer to Steve, who put his hands up to catch it, but Catherine moved nimbly and caught it in front of him._

 _Turning, she backpedaled a few steps and tossed him the ball, her tongue poking out between her teeth as she smiled._

" _Oh, is that how it's gonna be?" Steve asked, eyebrows raised in amusement. He looked over at Bobby. "Let's add competitive to our list, huh?"_

 _Catherine laughed. "Ha! You're one to talk."_

 _Bobby looked confused, but smiled at their banter._

 _Steve threw the ball back to him, and Bobby caught it._

" _Can you show me how to throw it straight like that?" he asked._

 _"Sure," Steve said._

 _Catherine moved back several feet to catch while Steve stood next to the young boy and demonstrated how to throw the football properly._

 _When it was Bobby's turn to try, his throw was short, but Catherine dove forward and caught it before it hit the ground. She rolled onto her back and held it up triumphantly._

 _"You got it!" Bobby cried happily._

 _Steve nodded, and glanced at Bobby. "She's good."_

 _Catherine grinned at them from upside down._

 _Bobby nodded. "So are you," he said, looking up at Steve._

 _Steve smiled and ruffled his hair. "Thanks, buddy."_

Smiling at the picture in his hand, Steve looked at Catherine beside him. "You know, he was really the first kid that I . . . spent any time with after leaving the island, you know?" He shook his head. "And it was only a handful of hours here and there during the weeks I stayed with the Mills every summer."

"But you clearly made an impression on him if he remembers you all these years later."

He looked thoughtful, a small smile on his face. "I guess so." Turning his gaze back to the photo, he said, "I didn't really know . . . how to act around kids, before that."

She touched his arm, bringing his eyes back to her. "I think he brought out something in you that was always there."

When he stayed silent, she squeezed his arm and smiled. "And now here you are, going to another seven-year-old's birthday party next week."

His smile widened. "Yeah." A small wince crossed his face. "You get any more details on that? Last I heard from Cody there was talk of a dress-code."

She grinned. "I've been told Jacob has agreed to minion costumes being _optional_ , not required, for the party. So you're off the hook."

He blew out a relieved breath, and she chuckled.

With another glance at the picture, Steve grinned.

"What?" Catherine asked.

"I think I just figured out what I'm gonna get Jacob for his birthday."

At her curious look, he quirked an eyebrow at her and asked, "Wanna go play catch, Rollins?"

Recognizing the word, Cammie woofed eagerly.

Catherine smiled at their dog, then turned her bright eyes on Steve.

"With you? Always."

* * *

 **Hope you enjoyed!**

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